All Along The Watchtower
by Patrick Phelan
Summary: Odin and Gilgamesh both lay claim to the steel-bladed sword.


The place was not exactly Centra. It was the same desert, the same desolation, but it wasn't the same _place_. It was more like the _idea_ of Centra, in something more like Time Compression than the actual universe.  
  
The wind was not exactly wind. It rushed and howled with the same ferocity as a real wind, but it blew up no dust, and carried no moisture. Again, it was the concept of wind, with a structure more like paramagic than reality.  
  
The two riders, coming to meet on a hilltop that was not a hilltop, were not exactly riders. They were also not exactly alive.  
  
Odin flew on Sleipnir, a horse that was part of him. Gilgamesh rode the not-wind, his elaborate red capes blowing out behind him as he did so and revealing the four swords he wore, powerful (and not so powerful) relics from other GFs and other cultures long forgotten. Both landed without a whisper of sound, or a puff of raised earth, or any surprise at the other's presence, though this meeting had not been prearranged.  
  
"I thought you had died," Gilgamesh said, his mouth moving untraceably behind his red mask.  
  
"I have been killed many times now," Odin responded, his mouth invisible behind his own, golden mask. "And many of those times have been more conclusive than a mortal could bring to bear. I think I may have forgotten how many deaths I have died."  
  
"I never forget anything," Gilgamesh told him.  
  
The not-wind howled around them, blowing out Gilgamesh's capes and Sleipnir's mane and leaving the ground and the environment around it completely untouched. Gilgamesh's all-white eyes matched Odin's rubies, glare for glare. The older Guardian Force of Death had supposedly sacrificed one of his eyes for wisdom. Legend, however, did not say which eye.  
  
"I think I know something you do not want me to know," Gilgamesh said.  
  
"Do you?" Odin asked, mildly.  
  
One of Gilgamesh's four arms grabbed one of his four swords, and with a speed faster than the winds around him, he drew it from its sheath. His capes flew, the wind shrieked, but again, the dirt of the not-place was completely untouched until Gilgamesh slammed the tip of the ornate blade into the ground. He didn't worry about dulling the blade. It was entirely possible that _nothing_, not even dark matter, could touch this sword. "I think that this can kill you," Gilgamesh said.  
  
Odin's golden mask showed no reaction whatsoever. "That sword is mine," he said.  
  
Gilgamesh drew the steel-bladed sword out of the ground, pointed it towards Odin. "You wear a sword," he noted.  
  
"Created of myself after my defeat. A young sword, without the power of the older one. The _Zan Tetsu Ken_ is mine, Gilgamesh. Give it to me."  
  
"I think..." Gilgamesh slowly drew himself into a stance, the steel-bladed sword horizontal below his eye level. "I think that I shall not. This is a sword finer than any of mine. I will kill you to take it from you."  
  
"Do you think you can?" Odin asked, his tone making it a question, not a challenge.  
  
"With the _Zan Tetsu Ken_?" Gilgamesh lowered it to another stance. "Certainly."  
  
Sleipnir reared, a little, and Odin walked the horse backwards two steps.  
  
Gilgamesh raised the sword high, spun it through complex loops, and finally touched the tip to the top of its sheath. "_Without_ the _Zan Tetsu Ken_?" he said, and dropped it home. "Certainly."  
  
Odin's gauntlet tightened around his new sword, which was not the _Zan Tetsu Ken_. Gilgamesh raised two of his four arms to grasp two sheaths, one beneath his shoulder, one at his hip, and he slid into a ready position. For a moment, there was silence but for the howling of the not-wind - for a moment, it almost seemed like the two Death Forces would not come to battle, despite both holding swords. The dust was still as ever, and the two contenders were as still as the dust.  
  
Then Gilgamesh exploded from his ready position, _Masamune_ and _Excalibur_ seeming to fly from their sheaths and into his hands. Odin sat his horse, silent and still, as Gilgamesh charged towards him wielding both swords. Seemingly at the last possible moment, he drew the sword that was not _Zan Tetsu Ken_ into his hand, and raised it first to his hip to block _Excalibur_, and then to his chest to block _Masamune_. Gilgamesh continued his charge, and wheeled around three feet behind Odin to charge again. It was then, like a thunderclap, that _Excalibur_ fell into two pieces and _Masamune_ split into a thousand cracks up and down the blade. The whole event had taken less than would have been a second in this realm.  
  
"I did that with a sword as young as a human, and younger than most," Odin said, looking down at Gilgamesh from his mounted position. "Give me the _Zan Tetsu Ken_."  
  
Gilgamesh stared up at him for a moment, holding the ruined swords in two of his hands. Odin dismounted, and took a step towards him, holding out the gauntleted hand that was not holding the sword.  
  
Then Gilgamesh discarded the ruins of his swords, pulled the _Zan Tetsu Ken_ into one hand, and charged forward again, easily twice as fast as he had charged before. Odin had no time to bring the sword around, and instead lifted the hand with which he had offered, catching Gilgamesh by the throat and hurling him backwards. Almost before Gilgamesh had hit the ground, he was there, swinging around the sword in a deadly arc and slicing _downwards_...  
  
The tip of the blade caught Gilgamesh's red robes at the temple, and cut through them. The robe, all one piece, started to unspool.  
  
Odin reached down, and took the _Zan Tetsu Ken_ from Gilgamesh's limp hand. He remounted Sleipnir, and without flying, was simply gone.  
  
Gilgamesh was still. The dust was still. And for the first time since the two riders had arrived, the wind was still.  
  


end


End file.
